Chapter 1 – Sunsets Can Be Illuminating
''It's not much farther'', Marshall said, taking Mary's hand and leading her along the trail. ''I promise you, this will be worth the walk.'' Mary followed begrudgingly, letting her hand rest passively in his. She didn't want to be here. No, she amended to herself, I don't want to be with Marshall. She glanced over at him. His eyes were focused straight ahead on the path. This was a mistake coming with him. It was all wrong between them. Ever since he learned about her engagement, things had been awkward. They had been angry with each other before. Well, mostly Mary had been angry with Marshall. He rarely got angry with her. And Mary got over her temper tantrums quickly. But this felt different. Marshall had been stiff and distant. Mary was avoiding him as much as she could. They had never talked about the toast Marshall had given, the fact that his feelings were now out in the open. Their easy going companionship was strained. Marshall was hurt and embarrassed. Mary was confused by the murkiness of her own feelings. She'd been surprised when he'd approached her early in the day, saying he had something he wanted to show her and asking her to meet him that evening at one of the trail heads in the Sandia Mountains. She had been reluctant, but she had finally agreed, realizing she had missed him, missed spending time with him outside of work, missed talking with him. Now, looking at his impassive face, she was having second thoughts.
The trail became steeper and more narrow. Marshall dropped her hand and led the way, leaning forward slightly against the increasing incline of the path. Mary watched him walking ahead of her, his tall, lanky frame easily navigating the rocky path. He had a smooth, fluid gait that was a pleasure to watch. She found herself admiring the view of his backside, nicely filling out his jeans. He really did have a rather nice tush. She idly wondered what it would feel like to squeeze his bum and grinned at the thought of his reaction. Might almost be worth it to see the look on his face. Pushing down the sudden impulse that arose from that thought, she shook her head, clearing the image from her mind.
She trudged behind him, feeling again the twinge of guilt. She was hurting him. She didn't think she would ever forget the look on his face as he delivered that toast. A declaration really. She could try to pretend his statement that he loved her was meant in friendship only. But she had watched his face, taut with pain. He wouldn't even look at her. She had seen it in his face, heard it in his voice, the pain that was verging on tears. But he had truly meant it when he said he wanted only happiness for her. Even though that happiness came at the cost of his own. And every night she went home to Raph, she was hurting him. He loved her. She could hardly wrap her mind around that. Had no idea what to do with it. But oh God I'm hurting him and Mary ached inside at the thought of causing Marshall pain. The one pure, true person in her life.
She contemplated their relationship, as they climbed higher up the trail. She'd been feeling strangely bereft the last few days. Besides the newfound tension between them, she suddenly put her finger on what else had changed. The loss of his touch. When he took her hand this evening it was the first time he had touched her since the impromptu engagement party.
It had happened so gradually, she hadn't even been aware of how physical he had become with her, until it was gone. She frowned as she thought about it, searching through her memories and finally traced the start of it back to his recovery from his gunshot wound. She had spent hours by his bedside, holding his hand, willing him to live. She began greeting him and taking leave of him with a kiss on the cheek, easy to do while he was unconscious, nonchalantly continued after he woke up. She realized in stunned recognition, that she had started it, and Marshall had just continued with the practice. After his release from the hospital, Marshall had begun squeezing her hand at times, then not dropping it. He would hug her and let his arm linger around her shoulders. He had started reciprocating her peck on the cheek, like they were French or something, while still in the hospital. Mary had dropped it as soon as he was released, but he continued kissing her cheek when he dropped her off from an excursion out with a witness. There was the occasional brush of his lips against hers, so feather light she was never sure if he had changed his mind mid-way. He had found his way through her do not touch defenses and she hadn't even been aware of it.
She drew her breath in sharply. There had been that kiss a few weeks ago. It had been different, but she had been so oblivious she hadn't realized its significance before now. He had dropped her off at her house after a particularly stressful day. One of her witnesses had lost a child, and after a day spent with the grief stricken parents, Mary was close to tears herself. Marshall had hugged her, then put a finger under her chin, lifting her face up, watching the tears start to slip down her cheeks. He had wiped them away and leaned in to kiss her. It was a soft, gentle kiss that held no passion, just comfort. His lips moved slowly over hers, giving of himself and not demanding anything of her. She had leaned into that kiss, let him taste her lips, taken what comfort she could from him. How could she have not seen it? She was only aware of the solace she was drawing from him. She had been so emotionally drained, it just didn't register that the kiss was different from those previous occasional touches of his lips to hers. He was telling her then how he felt, opening himself up to her with that gentle, sweet kiss. And then several days later he had noticed her ring finger...
Unbidden, a memory of another kiss came to her. A hot, urgent, needy kiss in a barn. She'd caught a glimpse of the embers smoking under the calm exterior. It had scared the hell out of her and she'd resolutely put any thoughts of that kiss out of her mind. She sighed, curbing her impulse to lodge a complaint about how long it was taking to get to this surprise.
''Here we go,'' Marshall said as they came around a bend and the path widened out again. Mary roused herself from her introspection and looked over at him. Marshall stopped and drew her in front of him. There was a clear view of a peak in the distance. The sun was sinking very low on the horizon. He checked his watch. ''Three minutes to go'', he murmured. Mary waited a moment impatiently, then asked, ''What is it you want to show me?''
''Just hold on a minute,'' he said, as the sun started to slip down behind the mountain. She crossed her arms and turned to look at him. Just as impatient as ever. But good heavens, she is so beautiful. He reached out and gently put his hand around her waist and turned her to face the sinking sun. Stepping behind her he pointed. ''Look,'' he said in a low voice. The sun sank behind the tallest peak and a brilliant corona of red and orange lit up the outline of the mountain. Shades of pinks, reds and browns moved across the ridges and valleys, the sky above a brilliant crimson. Mary's mouth fell open. It was beautiful, stunning, like nothing she'd ever seen. They stood and watched for an endless time, spokes of yellow and red and orange shooting out into the deepening blue of the surrounding sky. The last vestiges of the days light was softly diffused around them. The brilliance of the reds and yellows gradually faded to a smudged blue. As twilight fell and darkness came on, Marshall leaned forward and pointed with his left hand. ''Look,'' he whispered close to her ear. She followed his pointing arm as the full moon rose up behind the mountain, the last glow of the sunset fading. Mary made a small whoosh as she let out her held breath. The rising moon was luminous, brightly lighting up the darkening sky. Various features of the surface were visible in the crystal clear atmosphere. Marshall's arm moved higher to trace out the faintly shining stars. Mary tilted her head back to follow his pointing finger and leaned back against his chest.
''Marshall, it's beautiful. There...there aren't words for it.'' She relaxed back into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and his right arm came around her abdomen, lightly holding her to him. He launched into a commentary about the different stars, Mary smiling as she listened. She couldn't locate anything beyond the Big Dipper. Marshall seemed to know the names of every one, the legends associated with each constellation. Mary closed her eyes and listened to Marshall's deep voice, the familiar cadences comforting and calming. Letting his voice wash over her, she relaxed to the point she was almost drowsy, allowing him to partially support her weight. When he finally lapsed into silence, Mary became aware of the night sounds around them, the light wind rustling the leaves, the crickets chirping, something howling in the distance – coyote? mountain lion? Marshall would know. She didn't care as long as it stayed in the distance. She concentrated on his slow and even breathing, drawing a surprising amount of comfort from that most basic proof of his vitality. She reluctantly roused herself and said softy, ''Thank you Marshall. Thank you for sharing this with me.''
They stood in comfortable silence, the brightness of the stars and the moon filling the sky. Marshall wrapped both arms around her and leaned down, speaking softly in her ear, " Mary." He drew the word out, her very name a caress. No one had ever injected so much affection into those two syllables before. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm so glad you came with me to see this."
Mary savored the warm, secure feeling of being in his arms. She really didn't want to move. She felt the slow rise and fall of Marshall's chest, and found her breathing was in sync with his. They watched the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. Her senses sharpened with the stillness of their bodies, the crispness of the air. Mary became aware of the rectangular shape of Marshall's belt buckle pressing into her back. She was aware, with her head resting against his shoulder, of just how much taller he was than herself. She was aware of the crisp cotton of his shirt, the feel of it under her head. She was aware of the faint scent of aftershave? Cologne? She never could distinguish between the two. But it was subtle, pleasant. She covered his clasped hands with her own, aware of his long, strong fingers, the warmth of them firmly holding her to him. So many things she had never noticed before. She closed her eyes again and sighed. The chill of the night finally forced her to move. She turned around slowly, facing him. His hold loosened, but he didn't let go. She looked up at him in the pale moonlight, trying to read his expression.
''Marshall, why did you bring me here?''